


The Prince and the Thief

by forwarduntodawn134



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, Fantasy-verse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forwarduntodawn134/pseuds/forwarduntodawn134
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silva's a disenchanted prince and Villa's a thief promising adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and the Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so, this is the longest thing I've ever written outside of assigned work and to be honest I'm still not happy with it. I told myself that after a year I'd post it, no matter what. That said, it's been my baby for the past twelve months and I'm hopelessly proud of it, even if it does reveal me to be a big baby who loves her fluff. I'm also glad it's the first thing I'm posting on AO3, and I hope you guys like it! Any comments or kudos are much appreciated, as are any errors being pointed out!

The castle had been amazingly simple to get out of, all things considered. All he’d had to do was throw on some cheap clothing, use the tunnels strewn throughout the palace to avoid the guards, sneak his way through the kitchens, and wiggle through the gap in the high stone wall in the courtyard. Easy enough. He hoped it was as easy to get back in.

He didn’t suspect his disappearance would be noticed. One of the perks of being David Josué Jiménez Silva, crown prince of the Canaries. All you had to do was shut yourself in your room with the order to not be disturbed and you were safe for the day. He’d been doing it since he was a child, the guards would suspect nothing. The only people who would dare impose on his solitude were his parents, their royal highnesses the King and Queen of Gran Canaria, High Regents of the Canary Islands, et cetera, et cetera. And they had been away on their tour of the islands for months, and they would be for many more. No, he was safe. At least from discovery within the castle.

David didn’t suspect he was in danger of being uncovered outside the castle either, not unless he was sighted by one of the palace guards. He could count on his hands the number of times he’d been outside the castle; he doubted most of his people even knew what he looked like. 

Still, he’d have to be careful anyway. He’d heard enough stories of the horrors of the outside world to be wary. Not enough to keep him from venturing into it, but enough to keep him cautious. 

Making his way away from the high walls that had both protected him and caged him for all his life, he emerged through an alleyway into a bustling square.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, Silva was still shell shocked. The noise was amazing. The movement even more so. Flashes of color, strange faces, a multitude of smells. It was incredible.

He’d made his way through the square twice, hood pulled low over his face, and still hadn’t taken in even a quarter of the stalls. He’d bought a small honey bun, which was easily comparable to anything that had ever come out of the palace kitchens. 

It was amazing here, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t let himself do this before. There were so many things to see.

His attention was pulled from a display of cured meats by a bustling across the square.

“Out of the way, official business!” An important voice shouted out across the marketplace, managing to pierce the clatter of hundreds of people vying for goods. The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving only a handful of curious onlookers behind.

As the crowd departed Silva caught sight of the person who had shouted. He was shocked when he realized that he recognized him. He was often on patrol around the castle. Silva knew almost all of the patrolmen, having spent so much time watching from his windows. Behind him marched two other men, clothed in the uniform of the royal guard. Another man stood between them, clutched in their vice-like arms. Silva assumed he was being arrested. 

He was quite good looking. With a pale, freckled complexion and hair that had obviously been dyed blonde he made quite a sight, standing out despite his plain grey leggings and tan hooded tunic.

Silva pulled his own hood down lower across his face as the guards marched by him, fearful one of the guards might recognize him. As the four men made their way out of the main market place and into the smaller side streets Silva followed, careful to keep a good distance between them and him. After a short distance the group turned off of the street and down a small alleyway, heading toward the castle. 

Silva thought it too risky to follow right away and quickly ducked behind a merchant’s pile of cheap clay pots, peeking out between the spaces between them. As Silva watched the man suddenly started playing possum, acting as a dead weight against his captors. 

Two of the guards reached down to pull him back to his feet while the other watched, amused at the man’s childlike tantrum. The guards were caught unaware as a group of men, similarly dressed to the prisoner in light tan and grey with long hoods covering their faces, dropped from atop the two buildings on either side and surrounded them, weapons drawn. A single figure stepped forward from the rest. 

“Let him go, and we will give you no trouble.”

The guards looked at each other and at the surrounding men, noting that they were outnumbered two to one. Nodding to each other, quick as a flash they dropped their prisoner and pushed forward out of the circle of men and ran quickly to the freedom at the other end of the alley. 

David watched several of the grey clad figures rush forward to help their downed comrade. As he looked on he could see that each man had over their hearts a red and yellow crest, even the blond the guards had been arresting. They were definitely all together then. 

The group had managed to get the man back to his feet and were now checking him over for damage. Several of them had removed their hoods, one being a tanned, long-haired man. When he seemed satisfied that the freckled one hadn’t been hurt, he whirled around toward the one who had spoken to the guards.

“The hell, Villa? They could have killed him.”

The man, Villa, glared so hard at the other that Silva could sense it from under the hood. 

“Well you know what Ramos if your man hadn't managed to get himself caught stealing a fucking rug then we wouldn't have had to rescue him now would we?”

Ramos looked ready to attack but the blonde man touched his shoulder and led him to the other side of the alley, striking up a conversation with the others.

Villa, whom Silva suspected was the leader, watched this for a moment. His face was covered but he would bet good money the man was considering what to do next. 

‘He needs to move his men, those guards will be back.’ As soon as Silva thought it Villa seemed to realize it too.

“We need to disperse. The guards will reappear soon with reinforcements. Meet after dark at the checkpoint.”

The others dispersed, going off in twos or threes. Some climbed buildings, some ran out both sides of the alley and blended perfectly into the masses of people starting to gather again now the trouble had passed. Until only the leader remained. 

For a moment Silva thought he was caught, because the man looked directly at his hiding space, staring into the small space between two of the clay jars that Silva had been looking through before. But he shook his head and then he too scaled the buildings side and disappeared over the roof. 

Silva watched and was struck with a sudden sense of longing. Those men were amazing! Admittedly thieves, judging by the conversation, but amazing none the less. They had climbed and jumped as though they were born for it. And they had worked as a unit, they had seemed to all know each other’s moves and responded accordingly. They had seemed like a family. 

Even the argument hadn't seemed bitter, more like small siblings squabbling. He had never had anything like that. He had never had siblings, sure, but he hadn't even had anyone close enough to be a friend really. 

It was an upsetting thought, but David didn’t have long to contemplate it; from the far side of the alley came the clinking of armor. Silva realized too late that he would have to quickly vacate the area if he wished to remain incognito, which he very much did. By the time that he had pushed himself out from behind the pile of jars the guards were almost on him. Spotting his hood, one of the guards gave a shout and pointed to him, mistaking him for a member of the thieves group. 

Silva felt a great panic well up in him. As soon as they caught him they would remove his hood; they had on the blond man. And as soon as his hood was down he would be recognized and the jig would be up. He would be ‘escorted’ back to the palace and then put under heavy guard until his father returned. 

Considering the options, Silva bolted.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silva wasn’t absolutely sure where he was going; he had simply picked a direction and ran. He could see, and guess, that he was heading steadily deeper into the maze of personal districts within the city. Laundry lines began appearing outside doors, people moved quickly out of his way, and dogs barked as he ran past, alerting the guards to his path. 

David knew he had made a mistake as soon as he made the sharp right, taking him down a thin alley that ended in a tall wall. Much too tall for David to climb. 

He cursed and screeched to a stop. His breath was coming in great heaving gasps and his hood had slipped so far down his face that he could hardly see. He was done for.

“Hey!”

Silva startled, looking around. He could hear the steady approach of the guards by the clamor of their armor.

“Over here!”

Silva whirled to his left. There, in the shadow of the wall was one of the hooded figures. Or, rather, his head was there. The rest of him seemed to disappear into the ground. 

Silva stared for a moment, confused, before the noise of the guardsmen’s approach was enough to spur him into movement. He quickly jogged over to the figure, realizing as he approached that he was standing on a set of steps. They seemed to lead into some kind of cellar. Following the man’s hurried hand signals David half-tripped down the small set of stairs that did, indeed, lead to a cellar. Behind him the hooded man pulled a concealed door over the steps, blocking out the light and muffling the sound of the guards approaching footsteps.

The two sat in silence as they listened to the group of men run right past the small alley, paying no attention at all to the dead end street. David let out a sigh of relief.

“Humph.” the stranger said, “so that’s the second person I’ve saved today.” 

The striking of a lantern and its sudden light saved Silva from having to reply. Which is good, because the man who had lit it left Silva without words anyway. 

Silva had never felt like this before. He had found others attractive, of course. When he had been very young he’d had a brief ‘romance’ with a cook’s daughter that had ended in the young girl being scolded for giving him too many cookies. Then when he had been an awkward teenager he’d fallen madly and momentarily in love with one of his father’s senior guards. He’d even gotten a bit of action from one of his own junior guards once when they’d gotten a bit too into the alcohol. 

But he had never felt like this. 

This man was gorgeous, absolute perfection in David’s eyes.

His skin was richly tanned from the sun, glowing in the candlelight thrown from his lantern. His hair was dark, styled with something that made it stand on his head in rough spikes. His eyes were a deep brown and glowed warmly despite the scowl on his face. And his facial hair was… interesting: he had only a small patch under his lips. 

David was hooked instantly.

The man was glaring at him now, seeming perturbed by his endless staring and lack of response.

“Now is when you say ‘thanks’.”

Silva shook himself from his revelry. To his embarrassment, he found that his jaw had apparently been hanging open. Blushing lightly, he ducked his head in apology.

“Ah, my apologies, er, thank you.”

His face was absolutely burning, he could feel it. 

The man smiled at him softly. Silva could tell from the voice that this was the leader of the band of thieves he had seen before. It seemed strange to him that a thief would help a stranger.

“Why did you help me?”

“An interesting question. People usually just accept help.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m very thankful.”

The man was moving now, hanging the lantern from the ceiling and lighting several others around the small room.

“Well, you seem interesting.” He threw over his shoulder. “Your spying didn’t go unnoticed, you know. Ah, by the way, I’m David Villa. Call me Villa. Or Guaje. Either way.”

David took great exception to that. “I was not spying! And I’m…ah, Silva.” He wasn’t sure why’d he hadn’t used David, honestly. Just that it seemed dangerous, when all the populace knew him by that name. And it was a bit weird, sharing a name with this man.

“Ah Silva?” A smirk settled on Villa’s face. It looked disturbingly natural. 

Silva colored again. He’d really need to stop that. “Silva.”

“Alright, Silva. Why were the guards chasing you? You dress like a thief but you definitely don’t act like one.”

“My outfit is why they were chasing me, I’d guess. They showed up just after you and yours disappeared from in front of the palace and started chasing me.”

“So you admit to spying on us before.”

The self-satisfied smile on Villa’s face was disgusting, really.

“Not spying, just watching. But to be fair the guards made quite a scene.”

“Yeah, they lack subtlety in this place, I’ll give you that.”

Silva nodded to himself, he really should say something to the head of the Guard about that. He’d have to figure out a way to bring it up without giving himself away.

“Yes, they do indeed.”

“And did you enjoy our little show?”

Silva frowned deeper. “What do you mean?”

Villa’s face was almost splitting in two with his smirk. “You know, when you were eyeing us up before. Did you enjoy it? Did we impress the little rich boy?”

Silva looked down. How did Villa know he was rich? He’d put on his most plain clothing, it was nothing but rags compared to what he normally wore.

“Your skin and hair give you away. Perfectly clean, and you smell like bathing oils. You dress down, but you would have been better off if you’d rolled in the dirt a bit or managed to break a sweat.”

“Ah. Sorry I don’t run from guards often enough to smell disgusting.”

Villa laughed. “It’s not a bad thing, smelling good. You just stand out because of it. And running won’t make you sweat enough to hide that smell. You need to take a page from my men’s book and climb a few walls.”

“Well I hardly know how to do that.”

“Maybe you should learn, if you plan on fitting in. Even the children around here can scale a wall as simply as they skip a stone.” 

“Uhm, maybe you could, if you don’t mind of course, maybe teach me?”

Villa was by now smirking in an entirely too smug manner. 

“What was that? Sorry I seem to have missed it.”

Silva’s embarrassment flared. Clearing his throat he tried again. 

“That is, if you would be so kind, would you perhaps teach me some of your trade? Not-not the stealing of course! Just the jumping and the running on rooftops and such. I do want to fit in.”

Villa still had that smirk on his face. “So then we did impress you?”

“Er…”

“Yes, little spy, I think I could teach you a few things.”

“I told you, I was not spying! I was just curious!”

“I know, I know.” Villa said, his voice soft and placating. “How about you come by tomorrow at dawn and I’ll show you some of the basics. As an apology for accusing you of spying?” The thief asked with a smile.

Silva smiled back at the man. “Sure.” He sounded suddenly out of breath.

“Right, well. I’m sure you can make your way out now, the guards should be long gone.”

“Ah, right. Thank you, again. Where should I meet you?” 

“Can you be back in the square? There’s a pastry vendor on the eastern side, away from the castle walls.”

“Oh, I bought a bun there!”

Villa smiled at the kid, he was cute when he was excited. “So you can find it again?” At Silva’s nod he continued. “Alright. There, tomorrow at dawn. There won’t be as many guards and the vendors will already be set up. Then I’ll take you deeper into the city and we can work on your spy skills.”

“Hmph.” Silva eyed him. “I wasn’t spying.”

Villa gave a small laugh. “Sure, sure. Now get going rich boy.”

Silva gave him one more appraising glance before he made his way back up the stairs and out of the cellar. He quickly made his way away from the alley, just in case Villa had gotten curious and decided to follow. 

He was several blocks away before he managed to find another street that he recognized, and several more hours in before he finally made it back to the castle. Luckily for him, it was as easy to get back in as it had been to get out. He even made it to dinner on time. 

It wasn’t until he was safely tucked into bed, well fed and decidedly not bathed, that he realized he’d have to sneak out again the next morning.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Villa wasn’t quite sure why he had acted like that. The kid hadn’t done anything for him, wasn’t even one of his own, but he’d gone way out of his way to not only save him but then to be nice to him. He’d even agreed to meet him again. And teach him. 

He’d never acted like that around someone. Admittedly the kid was cute, really cute actually, but still…he’d never let himself be affected like that before. He just couldn’t understand it.

The kid was rich, too. He’d basically admitted it, and even if he hadn’t Villa could tell well enough that the kid came from money. Villa hated people from money. They were always rude, and they had this superiority complex that made him want to punch them in their smug faces. He’d come from poverty, he’d seen the kids on their purebred horses looking down on him as he made his way with his father to the mines.

But…well. The kid hadn’t been like them, had he? 

He’d been…sweet. That was the only word Villa could seem to come up with. He’d shined from behind his dark hair, all shy smiles and big eyes and soft freckles. 

Huh. That was a lot of detail for only having seen the kid for all of fifteen minutes in a cellar. He’d have to watch that.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now,” Villa yelled from the street, fifteen feet below Silva on his perch. “jump from that overhang to the roof of that market stall.”

Silva looked doubtfully at the stall Villa had pointed to. The wood comprising the roof of the obviously homemade stall looked shoddy at best. Deciding to trust the thief, Silva leapt across the divide to land atop the stall. Seeing an easy way down he continued with his momentum to jump from the wooden roof and land nimbly on his feet on the ground a few feet from Villa. Years of swordsmanship and horse riding had given him a surprising strength and agility, so he stuck the dismount in a wholly professional manner.

“Hey!” Villa remarked, “you're getting good at this! We’ll have you looking like a street rat in no time.”

Silva smiled at him coyly. “Well, I have the best teacher.”

Villa did not blush. Nor did he stutter. “Huh. Yeah, um.”

He swallowed thickly. Oh, he thought to himself, this was bad.

Silva giggled quickly at Villa’s red cheeks before he caught himself. He had never giggled. It was vaguely disturbing. He decided he wouldn't be doing that again.

So, of course, he did it not even five minutes later when they were again high above the streets and Villa made a remark about his 'natural agility'.

Oh god, Silva thought, I'm in bad.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had settled quickly into a routine over the weeks: they met almost every morning at dawn and practiced climbing and jumping. When the sun was high in the sky they would get lunch; sometimes bought, sometimes stolen. Silva had gotten used to the stealing, though he still wasn’t happy about it. Especially not since he could easily afford it. Then they would practice in the heat, something Villa seemed convinced was absolutely necessary. His demeanor almost made Silva think he was copying some lesson plan, like maybe that was how Villa himself had learned his trade. Most days, when the sun began to set Silva would head back to the castle, using the dusk as cover. Some days Silva lingered, not wanting to part from the thief. 

It was strange, and it could only end badly. But still, Silva showed up every morning. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The kid was good. Like, naturally good. He had the grace and balance of someone who had been doing it all his life, and Villa was decidedly impressed. 

Their meetings weren’t exactly consistent, but still the kid showed amazing progress every time. Villa even wondered if the kid practiced on his own. He didn’t seem like he’d have anything else to do with his time. 

It had become increasingly obvious to Villa that the kid came from a family very high up the food chain. Try as he might, he couldn’t hide the fact. His clothes were always immaculate. He’d obviously been skipping bathing but he still smelled divine. He’d…oh dear. He’d done it again. Described the kid with detail more befitting the drunken poets on the street than his position as grumpy thief.

He had to stop that. It could only end badly.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So exactly how rich are you?”

Silva turned to look Villa in the face. The two of them were stretched out on a small balcony on the edge of the city, their legs dangling over the edge. The residents of the home worked long hours, so they often took advantage and lay in the sun between practices.

“What kind of a question is that?”

“A simple one. Are you middle class rich, like these people,” he gestured vaguely behind him toward the home. “or are you private bath house rich?”

Silva frowned. He’d tried to always steer the conversation away from his background, but this was a bit hard to avoid. Best to be obtuse then.

“Well, we do have our own bath house.”

“Ah. So, something like a senator’s son? Or a successful merchant’s?”

Silva smiled at him. “Something like that.”

“You’re not going to give away anything are you?”

“Maybe you should tell me about yourself, and we’ll see what you can weasel out of me.”

Villa smiled back at him at this and scooted himself into a sitting position. Silva recognized the importance of this and moved to match him. The tight confines of the balcony meant that they were settled inches away from each other.

“Well, I’m from Asturias.”

Silva nodded. He had picked that up from his accent, he’d learned about Asturias in his studies. He even knew a good bit of the language, enough for diplomatic meetings at least.

“I was born to a poor couple. My mother tended the house and my father was a coal miner. I was destined to become a coal miner too, until I had my accident.”

“Accident?”

“I was very young, around seven I think. I can’t really remember it. My leg was broken badly, and that was it. I was considered useless. My parents couldn’t afford medical care and so my leg never healed right. I limped. I was shifted off to the side, damned to a life of poverty and begging. And so I left. I almost died too, until I learned to steal. And that’s how I found my family, my real family.”

Silva nodded along, riveted.

“Iker, our leader, he found me. He’s a great man, Silva. Many call him the saint king, the king of thieves. He taught every one of us everything he knew about climbing and running and stealing. He took me in, just like he took in the others. He gave me a purpose with my life, he saw me for more than just a limp. He brought me to my family and with their help I learned how to walk normally, how to run again, how to climb and jump. I owe them my life.”

“So, you’ve been a thief since you were very young?”

Villa nodded slowly, his face a blank mask. He seemed…afraid. Like he worried what Silva might think of him.

Silva stared at him a moment more, wondering how to bring the smile back to Villa’s face.

“I am from a rich family, that much is true. Maybe richer than you can imagine. But I am neither the son of a senator or a merchant, though I can’t tell you more than that. I can tell you that I can never remember feeling as loved as you seem to with your family. My parents are cold to me, distant. Even when I see them, which is rarely. I don’t blame them, they’re busy people with full lives. But still, I wish they’d make some time for me. They seem to think they can show their love with expensive gifts and parties. Really I just wish they’d say hi to me every once in a while.”

Villa stared for a few moments, and Silva was the one left wondering how he’d react. A soft smile flitted across the thief’s face, and Silva felt all his worries disappear. 

“We both have pretty shitty parents, then.”

Silva found himself laughing, despite the heaviness of the moment. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

Villa’s cheeks glowed a soft pink in the sunlight. “Well, just. Just remember that you have a family, if you want it. Iker’s very secretive about us, but he’s a lover at heart. He’d welcome you in a moment.”

Silva felt suddenly breathless. He felt that often around Villa. He forced himself to meet Villa’s downturned eyes. “Thank you.”

Villa blushed deeper and cleared his throat. “Right, well. We’ve been sitting around enough. I want to teach you how to tuck your body for a roll.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were days, of course, where they simply couldn’t be together. Villa was in the city on a job; he was expected to actually steal. And Silva was crown prince. Even with his power he still had to sit through court weekly, still had to attend the occasional lesson or dignitary meeting. It was annoying but necessary. He couldn’t let himself slip, couldn’t risk his tutors or his guards starting to wonder why he would hole himself up in his room for hours upon end. But even as he recited various scriptures, even as he listened to one shop owner complain about another’s chickens, his mind was on a rooftop somewhere.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, Silva thought, that hadn’t gone to plan.

He tucked his legs up as he vaulted over a low wall atop a merchant’s building, rolling as he landed and seamlessly bouncing back up to match Villa stride for stride. He was a quick learner.

The two of them finally skidded to a halt on a low-slung restaurant rooftop. As they stooped to catch their breath Villa pulled from under his cloak two oranges.

Laughing breathlessly Silva gasped at Villa. “When did you get the chance to steal those?”

“Oh you know, you were doing such a good job of distracting him with your big pretty eyes and your ‘please sir, we weren’t trying to steal anything’ that I saw an opportunity and took it.”

“Ah. Perhaps next time you could do the whole sneaky steal thing before we’re chased halfway across the city?”

“Nah.” Villa offered one of the pilfered oranges out to Silva, a brilliant smile lighting up his whole face in a way that seemed to Silva like sunshine through tree branches.

Silva took the orange with a small smile in return. He was suddenly short of breath, and it had nothing to do with their impromptu exercise: Villa was beautiful, half-crouching on the rooftop. His eyes were dark and lucid in the early evening light. 

Silva leaned forward into Villa. Crouching at an angle he pressed his lips against the thief’s and closed his eyes. The kiss was soft, nothing rushed about it. Just Silva’s pliant lips against Villa’s slightly chapped ones. Except for the awkward angle it was wonderful. Villa pressed back into him with a soft urgency, like he couldn’t believe this was happening and didn’t want to waste a moment of it. In it he felt everything he'd felt for Villa the past few weeks and he wondered whether the taste of those emotions came from himself or the thief. 

He got his answer when Villa pulled away, just far enough to rest his forehead against Silva's. In his eyes Silva saw rushing emotion, a torrent of affection and something deeper, softer, that made Silva nervous and giddy in the same moment. 

Silva breathed out heavily. “Huh.”

A smile broke across Villa’s face, larger than any Silva had yet seen on the serious man. 

“Yeah.”

Silva matched his smile. “We’re going to need to repeat that.”

“No complaints here.”

The oranges rolled off the rooftop, unnoticed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure you want this?” Villas thick voice and hot pants of breath onto Silva’s face were making it hard to think, but he nodded immediately. They’d danced around this enough, kisses could only go so far; and that’s all he’d been getting for the last week. He didn’t want to wait anymore.

“Yes. Please, yes.”

Villa swallowed heavily and returned his lips to Silva's neck, his hands fumbling with the tie on Silva's pants. He finally pulled them off, pulling his head back to take in the sight before him.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Silva smiled at him, at how soft his face looked in the lantern light. He pulled the thief back to him, pressed their lips together and bucked his hips.

Villa laughed against Silva’s lips, a disbelieving sound. He still had trouble accepting this as his actual reality.

Reaching his hand down he caressed Silva in all his glory, pressing his own dick to the other man’s and jacking them off together.

They moved in tandem, perfectly synced bodies rolling and crashing like the waves on the coastline. When they reached their peaks, Silva cried out Villa’s name and Villa simply stared at him in amazement, love in his eyes.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Extracting himself, Silva pressed a hard kiss to Villa’s lips, hoping to wake the thief. He really had to leave. Both he and Villa were busy today.

When Villa showed no signs of moving, Silva pulled back and moved to dress himself. The cold he’d left behind seemed to be enough to wake the thief, as he started to stir in the nest of blankets, reaching for Silva. 

David smiled fondly. He’d never felt so in love with someone, never felt so happy. “Villa,” he called quietly. “Villa, wake up.”

Villa stirred at his voice, his eyes slipping open to meet Silva’s across the room. A smile spread lazily across his face.

“Hey.”

Silva returned it. “Hey. You have to get up, you have a big day today.”

Villa’s smile faded. “Yeah.”

Silva was worried by this. It must have shown on his face, because Villa quickly offered an explanation. “It’s just, tonight. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Silva nodded at him. “Tonight. But I really need to go now.”

It was Villa’s turn to nod. “Alright.” He stood and made his way to Silva. Pulling their bodies together he kissed him passionately. 

“I-I…uh. I’ll see you tonight.” He stumbled over his words as he pulled away, and Silva thought he understood what Villa had been about to say.

“Tonight.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He knew from the second he entered the abandoned brothel they’d been using as their hideout that he was in for it.

“And where were you, captain grumpy? Out all night with the boyfriend?”

The smirk on Cesc’s face was unbearable. Sergio’s was even worse. 

“Out all night, Villa? D’you finally get some from your little protégé?”

The scowl on Villa’s face used to be enough to scare them away. Where had the good days gone?

“Shut up. We have a busy night.”

“Ooh somebody did get laid, didn’t they? We want the details Villa, was he good?”

If they continued Villa would kill one of them, he would.

“I said shut up. This is our last night”, he made sure to raise his voice at this, garnering the attention of the rest of his crew. “so we strike fast and hard. The big targets. Grab what you can, get out. We’ll meet outside the city gates, at the location we chose on the way in. Do not be seen, move in the shadows. Be careful.”

The others nodded their agreement, turning back to their individual tasks, until only Cesc, Sergio, and Fernando were looking at him.

They weren’t smiling. Something was up.

“Villa,” Oh boy, they had Nando talking. This was serious.

“Torres.” Best not to let them smell fear.

“Villa, it’s just. Have you talked to Silva about…about us leaving?”

Villa could tell from the way he was hesitating that Fernando knew he was in dangerous territory.

“We’re just worried about you. You’ve gotten really attached to him in a relatively short amount of time and we just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Villa sighed. “If I get hurt, Nando, it’s my own fault. I haven’t said anything. We’re meeting tonight, I’ll figure out what I’m doing then.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea? To leave it that long?”

He laughed, bitterly. “No, honestly I don’t. But I’m afraid of what he’ll say. Or what he’ll do.”

The three of them looked at him pityingly, and god did he hate that.

“Anyway, like I said. Big night. Be ready. Cesc, you’re with my group, and we’re aiming high.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Court was always so tedious. Over and over Silva would hear the same things. ‘His dogs dig in my garden’, ‘his goat got mine pregnant’, ‘he owes me twenty pieces of silver’. It was exhausting, even more so then his usual workouts. His mind drifted often to his thief. 

A smile crossed his face. He liked that thought. His thief. How nice it sounded. 

Before him stood a small man, a farmer. He was here to complain about the wolves targeting his sheep, to demand a hunt be set out after them. Silva was deciding just what the best solution to his problem would be when the doors of the throne room were pushed open, a path immediately formed in the crowd of people.

Silva’s heart dropped. 

This was impossible: it had to be some kind of nightmare.

Villa couldn’t be here. Couldn’t be cuffed. Couldn’t be in the arms of his palace guard who was speaking now, wasn’t he? 

“My lord, we bring before you criminals. We offer them to you for judgment.”

Silva controlled his features, not a sign of his shock coming through his well-trained poker face. Villa, however, had on his face a look of utter heartbreaking disbelief. It killed Silva. 

He had to think. Had to act. Villa didn’t look hurt, at least. His companion, a small, curly haired man, had a split lip and a black eye. Nothing serious. He had to stay calm.

"Captain" he heard himself say, his voice ringing hollow against the throne room’s stone walls. His eyes never left Villa’s. "Captain what are the crimes leveled unto those who stand before me?" 

He knew this speech, he'd practiced it a hundred times, heard his father deliver it a thousand more. 

"These men,” the captain spit the word out like poison drawn from a wound, “stand before you accused of burglary of your own royal house, my lord."

Silva kept his eyes on David, hardly paying the captain, Villa’s cohort, or the large crowd any mind.

"And the evidence captain?"

The captain stood a bit straighter. "The solemnly sworn words of myself and my men. We caught the vagrants in the act. This one," he drew Villa’s companion forward a bit, breaking Silva's line of sight and forcing him to finally look the other thief in the eyes. He was young, around Silva’s own age. Silva’s mind ran though all the names he’d heard Villa recite. Wondered who this one was. "This one we caught shoving your mother’s prized jewelry down his trousers, my lord."

Silva felt the sudden urge to giggle. It was mad, utterly mad this whole situation. Villa had tried to rob him. And his cohort had shoved his mother’s disgustingly gaudy jewelry down his pants. It was utterly, utterly mad. His need to laugh turned violently to the need to cry. There was only one punishment for thieving from the royal house. And it was the only possible verdict. He couldn't place the thieves’ testimonies above his own men's eyewitness. He would have to sentence them to death. Even Villa.

But he couldn't. He loved Villa. He was even quite sure the thief loved him. He had to think. He needed a plan, he needed time. A niggling thought bit into his brain. He had to get them out. Protect them without anyone knowing. An idea formed. 

"Very well captain. I accept your word and that of your men as fact. These thieves will then face the perils of justice. Tomorrow I shall read out their sentence before my subjects in the city square. In the meantime throw them in the east dungeons. Keep them in one cell and give them food and water. Let it not be said the crown does not offer pity to its enemies."

The captain nodded "Yes, my prince." and pulled the smaller thief to his feet while signaling to the other guard to do the same.

Silva desperately sought Villa’s eyes, wishing to convey some bit of his plan to him. But Villa had his eyes downcast, his face a mask of grief. Silva's heart broke for him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Villa was in shock. Silva, his beautiful little Silva, was prince of Gran Canaria.

He's not Silva, Villa thought bitterly. His name is David. Prince David. 

"Villa?" 

Villa jerked his toward the sound, vaguely aware that Cesc was talking to him.

"Villa was that, was that Silva? Was the prince Silva?"

Villa stared at Cesc's face, stared at the trickle of blood leading down from his lip, cutting a path through the dirt and sweat. 

He became aware of the fact that Cesc was waiting for an answer. 

Villa forced himself to concentrate. He nodded his head jerkily, his thoughts having trouble translating into motion.

Cesc if anything looked more scared at this.

"But, how did you not know? How did you not know he was a prince?"

Villa laughed, a nasty broken sound.

"Well he never mentioned that, did he? Never thought to mention that he was the goddamn prince."

He was aware of his shoulders heaving; his eyes blurring and his head shaking. They would die. That was the punishment for thieving from the king. They would die and Silva would be the one giving the order. Just the thought made him long for the gallows, for the eternal peace that would wipe from his mind all thought of Silva and his deceit. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He woke to a shadow thrown across his face. He knew who it was, could smell his exotic perfume even over the musk of the dirt room.

“What?” he asked “Have you come to mock me on my death bed?”

Oh and how sad was that? His deathbed was to be this pile of hay in the king’s dungeon. He supposed no one should have expected more from him.

The indignity of it, of the harsh reality of his situation made him hideously angry at Silva. He was usually angry, to be fair, but never before at Silva. He had never felt so embarrassed, so betrayed.

Said man simply stared at him sadly, the weight of the world seeming to rest on his thin shoulders, hunched under the expensive linen and heavy drag of his richly embroidered tunic and cloak.

“I have not come to mock you, David. I have come to save you.”

Villa stared. He was dimly aware of Cesc sitting up on the other side of the cell. His chains clinked on the stone floor as he shifted.

“Save us?” Cesc rasped.

“Yes,” Silva turned his attention to the younger man. “I had you set aside from the other prisoners so that I might sneak you out easier. But come, we haven't much time before the next watch makes its way around and we had best be long gone by then.”

Villa grunted. “In case you haven’t noticed, your highness,” he sneered around the words, “we’re chained to your lovely dungeon walls.”

Silva stared at him for a moment before rustling into the folds of his grand cloak and producing a ring of keys, kept from clinking by the thick fabric. A small sad smile graced his lips as he stared at Villa. 

“I’m a good student.”

He set to work immediately to remove the chains at Villa and Cesc’s ankles. Cesc immediately stood up, moving about the cell to get feeling back in his feet. 

Silva attempted to help Villa up, wrapping his hands around the man’s upper arm before being violently pushed off. Villa glared at the younger man and stood on his own, shaky though he was. 

Silva looked pained, like a knife sat between his ribs. And to be honest it was killing Villa to see him like that. But then it was killing him just to see him standing there, his nobility undeniable even in the dim lighting of the dungeon. 

Silva turned from him and moved toward the cell door. 

“Come, we have to hurry.”

Silva hung a quick left out of the cell, pausing to wait for the exhausted thieves to emerge as well before he continued down the corridor. Cesc followed quickly behind Silva, matching him footstep for footstep in a brisk but careful pace. Villa hung back a few paces, mulling everything over in his mind.

He would not forgive Silva for his lies. For what he was. How many times had Villa ragged on the royalty of everywhere he’d been? Silva had laughed at his jokes about revolution for Christ’s sake. He had hated those born fortunate, who never knew a day of hard work and cared nothing for the suffering of others. He had accepted what he had known of Silva’s place, because Silva had seemed so unaware of it. But he had sworn to never forgive those with power, those who did nothing to better their suffering people.

Jokes on you Villa, he thought to himself sarcastically, you ended up in love with one of them.

And he was in love with Silva. He was in right over his head. 

By now Silva had led them across what must have been the entire western half of the castle. Villa took a moment to consider how many enemies the crown must have if they truly needed this many prison cells. 

Ahead of him, Silva had struck up a whispered conversation with Cesc.   
“You should get that lip taken care of quickly.”

“Yeah, I know. Uh, thanks. You know, for breaking us out. It’s really nice of you.”

Silva stared at the young man. “Uh. You’re very welcome.”

“Well, you could’ve just let us hang.”

Silva’s eyes flitted to Villa, who was walking several paces back. “No, I couldn’t.”

Cesc looked between the two of them and seemed to understand. “Oh, course.” A smile crossed his lips before the pain forced him to pull them back. “Ow. And I’m Cesc, by the way.”

Silva looked surprised at this. “Oh? Villa’s….mentioned you.”

That was a nice way to put it. Villa had offered nothing but complaints about the rookie. He’d called him a kid. Silva could see why. Cesc was obviously young. He had thick, curly dark hair and a heavy brow that combined to give him the overall look of a puppy.

Cesc didn’t seem surprised by Silva’s phrasing. “Yeah, he complains about me a lot. It’s my fault we were caught today you know. The others got out fine, but I stayed to grab more jewelry. Villa stayed to get me out.”

Silva looked again at the young thief’s face. He seemed so disheartened Silva wanted to hug him. 

Before him the tunnels lined with cells ended, and wooden doors started to take their place. Silva hung a left into a small room sparsely furnished with nothing but a table and some tapestries. He made his way to the largest one lined along the back wall. Pulling it to the side he revealed a small dark tunnel, built right into the walls and stretching as far back as the eye could see. 

He turned back to his two companions. Cesc looked excited, like this was another adventure he could dive into. Villa looked…well. He looked like he’d just had his heart broken. 

“Follow this, it will lead you to the stables. Take a horse and make your way through the south exit. There will be no guards, I’ve had them sent to my parents chambers as extra security. You can make your way easily through the city after that.”

Cesc moved forward quickly, gratitude shining on his face. “Thank you, er…” He turned to look at Villa. “I’ll just…be in the tunnel then.” 

He moved further down the small space, far enough away that Villa and Silva could have a moment.

Silva watched him go, then turned toward Villa with a sense of dread. 

“Villa, please-”

“No.”

Silva felt his eyes flooding. “Villa,”

“No, Silva. You betrayed my trust.”

“Please, please Villa just listen to me. I love you, I know you love me.”

“I don’t love you. I never did. We’re done here. You can go back to your palace and your loneliness. I’ll go back to my family.”

With that, Villa moved determinably into the tunnel, the tapestry swinging shut behind him and casting he and Cesc into darkness. Even in the black confined space, he could feel Cesc’s disapproving stare. It didn’t matter. It was nothing compared to how he felt already. 

He’d lied to Silva, broke his heart. But it was only fair right? Silva had lied to him first. Had kept from him the most important part of himself. He had every right to hate him. Now if only he could manage to, he’d be alright. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Silva entered his private chambers, the breeze coming off the balcony’s open doors rustling the curtains. 

Removing his cape he sat down on his bed and sighed heavily. It had been a long day. 

They’d all been long days, really, since Villa had gone. 

He had been a much more attentive prince, someone his father would be proud to come home to. Already the streets rang with his praises, the people spoke of him as a kind and fair king. The ladies of the court had started attending all of his public appearances, their fathers eagerly pushing them toward him at every given opportunity.

He hated every bit of it. His only saving grace were his nights, nights like this. When he could crawl into his bed and imagine the sheets were rougher, the bed harder. When he could imagine he wasn’t alone in it.

David rubbed his hands into his eyes, scrubbing at them to drive away the tears. He’d cried enough.

He was roused from his moment of weakness by the continued rustling of the curtains. The soft movement distracting him from his thoughts. 

The breeze will feel good tonight, he thought, when the heat-wait.

There was no breeze. 

Silva stared in growing fear at the curtains. Was it an assassin? Standing slowly, he made his way towards the door back to the ante-chamber where his guards rested, keeping his eyes glued toward the balcony and the fabric hangings.

“Don’t panic! It's just me!' came a voice from the shadows.

David squinted into the dark. He knew that voice. But how, why, would that fool be here? 

“Cesc?”

Cesc stepped out of the shadow of the curtains. “The one and only.”

Silva gasped and looked around the empty bedroom worriedly, as if expecting guards to miraculously appear after Cesc. “What are you doing here? Do you realize how dangerous this is? The guards have been on high alert since you broke in last time.”

Cesc beamed at him, “That just makes it more fun!”

Silva could feel a headache coming on. He had spent the last two months trying to forget everything about Villa and Cesc and prepare for his father’s return. Now Cesc had shown up out of the blue, putting them both at risk.

“Why are you here Cesc?” Silva asked, tired already. So this was what Villa had been complaining about when he mentioned Cesc. Instant exhaustion.

Cesc looked down and shuffled his feet a bit before he moved to sit on the edge of Silva’s bed.

“Oh you know. I was around, figured I'd stop by.” 

“Cesc.”

Cesc sighed, “Oh alright. I came to beg you to come with me. Villa’s been an absolute nightmare since we left. I mean he was always a nightmare but he’s been so bad lately no one can deal with him. He won't eat and when he does he complains about having to eat and the quality of the food and the fact that Iker won‘t let him stay in his room while he eats. He won't bathe, it's totally gross. He bitches at everyone, even Iker, and he's punched about six people. Broke Xavi’s nose, Andres and Iker were pissed. He's absolutely unbearable and god forbid someone mentions you. And worst of all…”

David sighed. “Worst of all?” He prompted.

“Worst of all,” Cesc almost whispered, “is the crying.”

Silva felt his insides crack a little. “Crying.”

“Yeah, he says he isn't and he decks anyone who argues but we can hear him at night. Sobbing.”

Silva felt like sobbing. Strangled, he whispered, “Is that right.”

Cesc nodded sadly, picking at the fine embroidery on David's blanket.

“So.” Silva looked up at this. “So I came to find you. You must miss him right? You wouldn't have been sneaking out of this place to see him if you didn't love him. Right?”

Silva stared at him. Love. He knew he loved Villa. And by all accounts except from the man himself Villa loved him too. 

He supposed Cesc could be lying. Trying to lead him to the thieves so that they could then ransom him back. But Villa wouldn't let them do that. Would he? 

And anyway Cesc didn't seem like the lying kind. But then he didn't seem like the thieving kind either. Still, the odds were he wasn't lying, at least not completely. And if Villa needed him that badly, if Villa loved him and longed for him like he loved and longed for Villa then surely he should go to him. 

The only things that kept him stationary were his distant parents, the burden of being the only heir. A future as king. And that was no future at all. He wasn't sure how he'd fare among thieves, but if they were anything like Villa and Cesc they couldn’t be bad at all. 

“Alright.” 

Cesc stared at him. “Alright?”

Silva nodded and looked around the room. He’d need to pack a bag.

“You’re coming with me?”

Not a big bag, of course. They’d probably have to travel pretty far and people would be on the lookout for him once word got out. 

“Seriously?”

“Yes, of course. I just need a bag.” 

So a few outfits. Some trinkets to pawn or offer to this ‘Thief King’ Cesc and Villa had talked about. He didn’t really need anything sentimental. The only thing he really valued was waiting for him.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you agreed. I thought I’d have to drag you out of here by force to get you to come with me. Are you sure you wanna come? I mean this place is fancy I wouldn’t wanna give it up. And you’re gonna be king! Of a whole country! Are you really sure you wanna leave that for Villa? I mean he’s kinda good looking I guess if you like the whole weird facial hair thing but he’s kinda annoying and he whines a lot. And did I tell you he hasn’t been bathing?”

Silva paused as he was stuffing some of the ‘poor clothes’ he’d worn running around town with Villa into a plain bag. 

“Are you trying to convince me not to go?” 

“Oh no! I wouldn’t go back without you. I just thought it’d take a lot more to convince you to give up a castle and everything for a room in a cave.”

Silva raised an eyebrow. “So the Thief King lives in a cave?”

Cesc looked upset. “Man, I’m not supposed to say anything about where it is! This is why Iker never lets me out. He says I can’t keep a secret.”

Silva smiled at him and bumped his knee as he was walking over to his jewelry box. 

“Well, technically since I already agreed to come I was going to see where it was anyway, right? So you haven’t really told me anything secret.”

Cesc smiled at him, “Yeah I guess. What are you doing?”

Silva glanced at him as he dug through his chest of jewels. “Well, I figured this Iker would take more kindly to me if I brought something to him. Like a tribute to gain favor.”

“Oh trust me, if you can get Villa to shut up Iker will fall down at your feet and hand over his metaphorical crown in an instant.”

Silva chuckled lowly, wary of the guards in the antechamber beyond. “Is he that bad? Seriously?”

“You wouldn’t believe how bad he actually is.” 

Silva’s smile fell slowly. “Well, I’ll find out soon. I just hope he’ll be happy to see me.”

Cesc beamed. “Oh he will be, trust me!”

David smiled sadly at him. “Don’t be so sure. He did call me a traitor last time we met. Well, I’m ready to go. You lead the way.”

Cesc looked at him. “Don’t you wanna say goodbye?”

“Not really. This place was never home to me.”

“Well, alright. We can leave the way I came in.”

Cesc led David over to the balcony, Silva pausing on his way over to put out the lamp on his bedside table. When he made his way over to the terrace he could see a thin line of rope hanging from the banister. It dangled about twelve feet straight down before it curved back in toward the castle wall. It looked as though it had been tied to some thick ivy that had climbed up the castle wall. 

“How did you get the rope around the banister?”

Cesc grinned at him in his impish manner. “Used a rock. Something you’ll probably learn once we get you settled in at the Bernabeu.”

“The Bernabeu?” 

“Home. Or one of them. We move around a lot between there and the Calderon and a few others. Helps keep us safe.”

Silva nodded. He was suddenly very glad of everything Villa had taught him about climbing when they had roamed the city.

“Alright,” Cesc said, “Give me your pack and I’ll climb down. You watch how I do it and come down when I get to the ivy. We can go down together from there.”

“Will that weed hold the both of us?”

Cesc nodded. “Oh yeah, I’ve climbed a lot weaker than that with fully loaded packs.”

Silva supposed he should trust Cesc’s judgment. His mind just kept recycling to everything Villa had said about Cesc, and to Cesc himself saying Iker ‘didn’t let him out a lot’. He was slightly worried.

But still, he had broken into his palace. He couldn’t be that bad. That or his guards were actually terrible at their jobs. 

While he was pondering his guards abilities at actually guarding Cesc had leapt catlike onto the stone railing and had started descending the slender rope at a frighteningly quick pace.

Silva watched his actions, combining what he was seeing with the information he had gathered from Villa in their short lived lessons. 

Cesc had by now reached the ivy and was waving for Silva to follow. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Silva followed Cesc’s lead and vaulted the railing, shimmying down the rope and grabbing hold of some ivy next to Cesc.

Cesc smiled at him before whispering harshly, “Villa was right, you are good!”

Silva smiled at him in response but refrained from answering, he didn’t think his stomach could take it. Cesc started slowly picking his way down the hanging plant, Silva deciding it would be best to stick to his path and matching him branch for branch. 

When they were both safely on the ground Silva looked back up to survey the path they'd picked along the ivy.

“Is that how you and Villa got in last time?”

He hadn't even thought to ask then, with all the confusion.

“Kinda. We entered from the northern turret though, you really shouldn’t let the ivy grow like that, y’know. Thieves love it.”

Silva shrugged, a sudden sense of ease settling on him. “It’s not my problem anymore.”

Cesc stared at him for a moment, studying his face before smiling again. “Guess not, huh?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting out of the city itself was even easier than getting out of the palace: they simply marched out. Silva had been expecting some daring climb of the walls, or a hidden tunnel along its length. He was almost disappointed. 

Cesc led him along the main road outside the city for several hours, until the moon was high in the sky. His earlier exhaustion had returned and Silva could feel his eyelids slipping closed with every step.

At last they came to a tavern along the road, and Silva was relieved when Cesc led him towards the stables in the back. He was disappointed, however, when he saw the large stallion tied, fully kitted, at the entrance to the stable. Cesc moved to the horse, mounting him swiftly and motioning for Silva to follow up. 

Silva looked at him doubtfully. “Can he hold us both?”

Cesc nodded happily. “Oh yes, he was pulling mining carts when we stole him. Hop on, he’s very gentle.”

Silva nodded and pulled himself onto the horse behind Cesc. It wasn’t comfortable, the back of the saddle dug into his crotch and he was bone deep tired. 

“Cesc, I’m going to need to sleep.”

“Sure, I’ll make sure you don’t fall off. We have to keep moving, eventually they’ll notice you’re gone and we should be off the islands by then.”

Nodding David laid his head against Cesc’s shoulder and let the rhythm of the horses hooves on the dirt road lull him to sleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Cesc woke him when the sun was rising on the horizon. He was still dead tired. They were at the harbor, ships standing along the docks fully rigged and ready to set sail. 

Silva turned back to Cesc. “Are we sailing?”

Cesc nodded as he tied his horse up and started toward a small hut on the docks. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a ship lined up already. It’s a few days journey, but we’ll be sailing fast and light. Why,” Cesc turned to him at this, “you don’t get sea sick, do you?”

Silva shook his head. “No, I like sailing. It just seems like we have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Oh yes, as least a week. Don’t worry though, we’ll have plenty to do!”

Somehow that didn’t make Silva feel any better.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It turned out when Cesc had said they’d be traveling ‘fast and light’ he had meant on a small schooner just large enough for the crew, them, and Cesc’s rather large horse. he had also apparently meant it when he said they would be kept busy, as it seemed the entire journey spent at sea they were being used as part of the crew themselves, though Cesc swore he had paid for their passage. Not an hour went by when someone wasn’t asking one of them to deliver a message to someone else on board, or to help with the rigging. David was fortunate in this instance as his father was an avid sailor, and he knew most of the knots required of him. Still, he was glad when they made land three days later, and even more glad when Cesc bought the two of them a hot meal in a tavern before they set out again.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days passed quickly as they rode, and before Silva knew the sun had set on the ninth day of their journey. He shivered. Summer was fading, it could be felt in the chill air. Cesc shuffled next to him. 

“Hey, come here.” Silva looked at him. Cesc was holding his arms open, obviously expecting Silva to move into the warmth of his fur coat. He eyed him doubtfully.

“Oh, come on. Villa’s not here and I’m pretty sure he’d rather you snuggled with me then froze to death.”

Silva sighed before moving into Cesc's cocoon of warmth. He had a feeling Villa wouldn't be happy with this, regardless of the circumstances. He was definitely the jealous type. 

Still, Silva thought, what he doesn't know won’t hurt him.

And with that he slipped into a deep sleep, lulled by the warmth and Cesc's steady heartbeat.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silva awoke to the clatter of hooves on pebbles and a distressed whinny from Cesc’s horse. He shot up like a bolt. In the first grey light of dawn he saw them. Half a dozen riders on horses, surrounding him and Cesc. With weapons drawn and covered faces, he suspected they weren't friends.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

Cesc was tense against him, his hand strayed toward his belt before a sword was thrust under his chin by the one who had spoken. 

“I wouldn’t do that, lad.” The man pressed the tip of his sword harder into Cesc’s throat, until a drop of blood fell from it. 

“I would offer the same advice to you, rider.” A new voice broke the air, and the armed man drew his sword back from Cesc and Silva. He turned toward the new voice, and his frame shrunk when he saw who had spoken.

Silva hoped these were their friends, as they easily outnumbered the masked riders. Their faces were shrouded as well, by the same grey cloaks Silva had become accustomed to seeing on thieves.

The rider stumbled slowly backwards from Silva and Cesc. His fear was evident, as was his companions.

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry master thief. I was unaware they were companions of yours. I beg your forgiveness.”

“You’ll have it from me, but not from my master. The one you harmed is very dear to him. My advice would be to flee, and quickly.”

The rider was nodding so hard now Silva suspected his head would fly off. 

“Of course, of course, master thief, my dearest apologies and thanks to you and yours.”

With that he swung himself into the saddle of the nearest horse and spurred it off, the rest of the group following closely.

Cesc heaved a great sigh of relief, and Silva took that as a good sign. 

“Well, Xavi,” Cesc said, an impish smile on his face, “took you long enough to find us.”

“You’ve sunk yourself into trouble this time, Cesc. Do you know how worried Iker’s been? He won’t be letting you out of his sight anytime soon.”

Cesc shrugged. “Worth it. I brought the solution to our Villa problem.”

This had the attention of the group, if their shuffling movements and sudden interest in Silva were any indication. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and very conscious of how close he still was to Cesc. He quickly pushed himself away from the thief.

The leader of the group, the one who had spoken, followed his movements closely. Sharp eyes and a defined brow were visible under the hood, and Silva understood immediately that this was someone with power and a bed attitude. The man almost reminded him of Villa, though he seemed a bit less friendly.

“I see. Still, I doubt Iker will be happy you took it into your own hands to fetch him. But we shall see. You shall both be brought before Iker.”

With that he snapped him fingers and several thieves dismounted their rides and moved forward, one pulling from the folds of his cloak a long piece of fabric. Cesc looked unhappy at this.

“Do you have to blindfold him Xavi, really? He’ll know our location soon enough, if everything goes right.”

Silva started. “Blindfold?”

Xavi glared at the two of them, his distaste visible even under the hood. 

“It’s a necessary precaution, and we are barely an hour’s ride from the hideout. Why you stopped last night at all is a mystery, Francesc.”

The way his voice hardened as he said Cesc’s name made Silva wonder if perhaps Cesc had done this before; gotten lost outside the hideout and waited for the others to find him. Silva had gotten the feeling that Cesc was babied a bit by the others; perhaps he had stopped them purposely so the others would find them.

Either way, found they had been. Silva supposed he should cooperate with these people. So he allowed them to take his pack from him and to wrap the blindfold around his eyes. They got a bit rough as they were leading him into the saddle of a horse, but he supposed it was to be expected. 

“Is he seated? Right, let’s be off. And mind he doesn’t fall from the saddle, I’ll be certain to deliver your names to Villa personally if he does. Francesc, you’ll ride up front with me.”

“Awww…” Silva heard Cesc’s plaintive whine from near him, then felt his horse move by. After a moments pause his own ride started forward, and he supposed they were off.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride was rather boring, really. The terrain was rough, and it got rougher the longer they traveled. The other thieves did not speak, but every once in a while he could catch bits and pieces of Xavi and Cesc’s conversation as they rode, though it was mostly Xavi vacillating between chastising Cesc and checking to make sure the cut on his throat was fine.

After what seemed to Silva much longer than the hour promised, the caravan of thieves came to a halt and Silva was led down from his ride. As soon as his feet hit the ground several sets of arms grabbed him, and Silva had to control himself to not fight back as ropes were wound around his wrists. 

“It’s just a precaution, don’t worry.” A kind voice quipped up beyond the group around him.

The blindfold was kept on as he was led on foot into what he felt was distinctly underground. The air became just a bit moister than it had been, and water could be heard running somewhere close by. He was walked for quite some time, until he started to wonder if they were leading him in circles to confuse him. Finally the company drew to a halt, and Silva heard the slide of heavy doors across a stone floor. He was led in a few more paces before the slide of the doors began again and his blindfold was removed.

He was in a vast underground cavern, though it was lit so cleverly that it seemed the sun was shining in it. There was a large crowd already gathered, at least thirty or so individuals, and as he looked they moved to either side of the room to create a path toward the front of the hall. At the other end stood a large chair, what he supposed many would call a throne but what made no such suggestions. It was lifted on a plinth, but the chair itself was a simple wooden one, more for convenience than as a symbol of authority. And on it sat a man, his brown eyes sweeping over the group with a keen intelligence.

Silva knew right away that this man must be the king, the saint, that everyone spoke of. 

He lifted his eyes to meet those of the imposing man before him. 

Iker Casillas had no crown, but there could be no doubt that this man was a king. His face was beautiful and kind. His bearing could easily fit in amongst the people of Silva’s father’s court. It was obvious that this man commanded the room. 

Silva was made to kneel before him, his bound hands making the action awkward. Cesc stood behind him, and the thieves who saw them in still flanked the two of them.

Silva was struck with the thought that Villa must have felt something like this, kneeling before him those months ago. Only Villa had been preparing to die. Silva hoped to avoid that.

The thief king looked over Silva for a moment, something hard and dangerous in his eyes. He turned his gaze to Cesc for a moment and even Silva, who scarcely knew this man, could see the softness his expression took on when his eyes settled on Cesc.

"Cesc, what have you done this time?"

The exasperation in his tone was fond and amused, as though Cesc were a small boy constantly bringing home stray kittens. Silva wondered briefly if Cesc did do this often; bring home strays.

"Iker I know we're not supposed to bring people home-" 

And didn't that make him sound like a child.

"But this is-"

"Cesc I don't really care who this is. You know the rules. No outsiders. You snuck out, I-we nearly had a heart attack when we found you missing. How many rules can you break in a fortnight?"

"But Iker you don't understand this is-"

"This is why I don't let you out on missions. You nearly get Villa and yourself hanged, and you get this wild desire for adventure that I just don't know how to deal with. Perhaps we could-"

"Iker, this is Silva."

That stopped the king in his tracks.

"Silva? Villa’s Silva?"

Cesc was smirking now, Silva could feel it.

"Villa’s Silva." He confirmed, the smugness radiating off him in waves.

"Well." Iker said, his eyes alighting on Silva again. "That changes things."

Turing his attention to the groups of thieves clustered around, he pointed to one with hair so curly it defied nature.

"Puyol, do me a favor and fetch Villa for me will you? He probably won’t kill you. And let's not mention our guest."

The man nodded, what Silva assumed to be a smirk on the very tall man’s face. He moved from formation and made his way out of the grand hall, his hair bouncing with every step.

Silva hoped the use of the word 'guest' meant he would be released from his ropes but neither the king nor the others made any attempt to free him.

The king himself had returned to staring at him, while Cesc shifted uncomfortably in Silva’s periphery.

Silva met the thief’s eyes steadily, refusing to be cowed by this man. 

Seeing his defiant stare the king smiled warmly, an unprecedented gesture. 

"Forgive my manners, I'm just trying to understand how you're the man who's been causing our constant headaches these past few months. You don't really seem Villa’s type. And he doesn't seem like yours."

Silva shrugged at this, looking to the floor bashfully. 

"I don't mean to insult you either but it's just...we expected someone...different."

Silva raised his head at this and glared. "You expected some beautiful woman with a quick wit. Someone worthy of Villa’s distress."

Iker looked pained. "I didn't mean it like that. Cesc has told us you are a prince, and he has told us of how you saved their lives. We understand you mean the world to Villa, especially since he has been miserable without you. You must simply understand that the picture painted by all this was extraordinary. Yet you look like a simple man, not even much like a king. And I do mean that as a complement."

The sincerity in his voice made it impossible for Silva to doubt him. But still, he had yet to untie him. 

"If you know of what I have done for Villa and Cesc then why do I remain in ropes like a prisoner?"

The smirk slid back into place on the king’s face, like the sly grin of the fox. 

"Oh, I plan on making Villa suffer for all the pain we've gone through."

Silva had just a moment to process the implications of this before there was a commotion in the hall.

Turning his head as best he could he saw the grand doors they had marched through shifting open a bit more, groups of people shifting to allow a solitary figure through. 

Silva knew immediately who it was, though he could not see the short man through the crowd. The yelling gave him away.

“For the love of all that’s holy Iker, I swear to fucking god if this is another attempt to get me to eat and socialize I’ll wring your neck. And god have mercy on your miserable soul if you try to suggest I take another fucking job. I’ve taken no time off since I passed training, I deserve a few years of rest let alone a couple months.”

And he finally appeared from the crowd. Silva felt his heart sink. He had been hoping Cesc had been exaggerating; he knew now he hadn’t.

Villa’s hair hung limp in a fringe across his forehead, un-brushed and lacking his usual spiked style. Once tan skin had a dull white tinge to it now, and Silva knew Villa hadn’t seen the sun since he had arrived back here. His face seemed haggard and rougher than before and the shadow on his chin suggested a few days missed shaving. It was also obvious why Iker had been haranguing Villa about eating: the man had lost at least ten pounds.

Villa made his way past the rows of tables and up to the small sitting area where Iker was standing. He didn’t look around, didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, didn’t notice Silva at all.

“I told you Villa, you take what time you need to recover. I didn’t call you here to harass you. I called you to greet our new prisoner.”

Villa frowned, “prisoner?”

Looking around his eyes caught Silva’s and his jaw dropped, a jumbled reenactment of just a few months ago. 

“Silva?” His voice was hoarse, disbelief written across his face.

Silva managed a small smile. “Hello Villa.”

Villa rushed down away from Iker and practically fell down before Silva. Raising shaky hands he cupped the smaller man’s cheeks. His eyes flew across Silva’s face, his bound arms, his body, checking him for any injuries and trying to convince himself that this was real. 

“Oh god Silva, what are you doing here?”

Silva pressed his face into Villa’s warm palm, letting the familiar feel of his lover wash away all he had dealt with since they had last met. 

“Cesc came to get me. He said you didn’t mean what you’d said. And I…I missed you so much Villa, I never want to live without you again.”

His voice dropped at the end. He remained very aware of the dozens of people watching them. 

Villa’s eyes flooded and he looked to the floor. “Oh god Silva, I-”

“Villa I am so, so sorry that I never told you who I was. I was so afraid of how you would react that I hid it and lied about it and I know you might never trust me again but do you think you could try to forgive me?”

Villa looked up at him again and smiled shakily. “Haven’t really got much of a choice. I was hardly alive without you, no way I’m letting you go again.”

Silva smiled at him, pressing himself forward and pushing his lips against Villa’s. His stubble felt foreign, but he tasted the same and Silva felt like he could die happily in that moment. 

He pulled back to breathe, remembering all the other people within the chamber. Villa however seemed reluctant to let him go, leaning forward every time he pulled away and pressing quick kisses to his lips.

When Silva finally managed to pull away, it was to find the chamber emptied save for himself, Villa, Cesc, and Iker.

The other two had moved off to the side and were conversing between themselves. Iker seemed to be back to admonishing Cesc for disappearing, judging by Cesc’s hunched shoulders and the hurt look on his face. His absent rubbing at the cut on his throat suggested he and Iker had already discussed it.

Silva smiled at Villa as the man again attempted to meld their lips before he turned toward the other two men. 

Villa seemed confused at the interruption until he looked again at Silva’s bound hands. 

“Eh!” he shouted, turning toward Iker and Cesc. “Get me a knife!”

Iker turned to Villa with a raised brow. He opened his mouth and Silva felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Had Iker been serious about making Villa suffer? But just as quickly he shut it again and smiled at the two of them. Bending down he reached into the area around his lightweight boots and pulled out a small knife.

“You know, Villa, I was going to make you suffer. You know, for all the grief you’ve given me. But you two are so cute I can hardly stand to.”

With that he tossed the knife over to Villa, who glared at him in return. Turning to Silva he grumbled as he cut away at the bindings. 

“Cute my ass…”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Villa's room was rough rock, a small square with a bed against one wall and a trunk against another.  
“It’s nothing special, I know.” Villa rubbed the back of his head. “It’s probably the opposite of what you're used to-”  
“It is. My closet in Gran Canaria was twice the size of this. And I suspect,” he said with a critical eye on the bed, “that my bed must feel like a cloud compared to this.”  
Villa looked distraught at this point.  
“But, you know. That bed seems the worst thing in the world to me now. I’d lie on the floor, if you would lie next to me.”  
Villa face blossomed a bright red, before he ducked his head and moved to place Silva’s bag by his trunk and remove its contents.   
“You’re getting cheesy you know.” He mumbled.  
Silva grinned at his bent back. “I know. You love it.”  
Villa glanced up at him. “yeah.”


End file.
